When?

I was lifting Bird out of the van earlier this week because the sedative they gave him at the dentist wiped him out. He was limp, soft, and damp like kids are, you know, like fresh flowers or a peach that's been in the mist, not unpleasant, just...you know...a kid.

He leaned into me, murmured, nestled his head against my shoulder, legs dangling down. His hair tickled my nose, his breath was warm on my neck. My arms were full of him, full of my heart, my best good thing.

I wondered. When did he grow so big? When did he reach the size that I couldn't carry anything but him? When did my baby, ten and one-quarter pounds, become this little boy? When did he become to big for me to carry cross-ways, cuddled up to my heart? When did he grow so long that his feet nearly brush the ground when I pick him up, tangling in my legs when he forgets to wrap them around?

He has almost grown to the point I can't carry him, any more. When will that day come? I will have to become stronger, hold it off a little while longer.

You never know what you've got...